


Singer

by InMoNochrome, Searece



Series: Singer, Enforcer [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Crystal Weaving, Enforcer Prowl, M/M, Seal-Breaking, Singer Jazz, Spark Play, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMoNochrome/pseuds/InMoNochrome, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz is a professional singer; Prowl is an Enforcer who guards him on a tour of Praxus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Jazz meet; they visit the Helix Gardens; they head back to Jazz's hotel, which is not what it probably sounds like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was role played with InMoNochrome; she wrote Prowl and I wrote Jazz.  
> Comments are loved, as are corrections and critique! I don't bite, trust me. ^_^  
> I hope to post one chapter per day until posting all finished segments.

            “Part 1”

             Jazz looked up at the Praxian Enforcers' Headquarters with awe that nobody could see because of his visor.  Okay, well maybe they could see it since he was slack-jawed.  He'd never been to Praxus before, and he was excited!  He just hoped he didn't get a stingy, grumpy Enforcer for a guard.

             Looking at his travel agent, he nodded to signal that he was ready.  When Jazz settled his customary smile on his face, they both exited the transport to head into the building.  Though camera flashes assaulted them as they did, they made it to the building without upset.

             There inside was the Chief Enforcer, who nodded at Jazz, "Your escort will be here shortly; he's just gotten caught up in case work."

             "I understand, sir," smiled Jazz, "I can be patient.  May I take a seat?"

             "Of course, sorry I forgot," responded the Chief as he fidgeted, waiting for the one he'd mentioned, "His name's Prowl, by the way."

             "Okay."  Tilting his helm, Jazz watched the Chief, "Something wrong?"

             "Oh, no," the chief hesitated, "well, I have one of your datadisks in subspace right now..."

             Chuckling, Jazz saw a simple mech in place of the chief.  "And you want an autograph, am I right?" he grinned.

             "It would mean the world to my grand-sparkling if you did."

             With a little laugh, Jazz motioned for the chief to hand the datadisk over as he took a permanent marker out of his subspace, "Hand it over, then, and I'll sign it."

             The Polyhexian grinned as he signed the datadisk, one of his first ones.  "You have a very lucky grand-sparkling; these are kinda rare nowadays."

             "Thanks, I'm going to give it to her tonight; she will be so happy, she loves your music," smiled the chief as he tucked it back into his subspace.

             "Glad to make another bot happy," responded the singer, glancing up just as another enforcer came up to them.  This enforcer had a pretty red chevron as well as an arrow on a very interesting place on his hips.  Jazz watched him, curious if this was the "Prowl" meant to be guarding him during his stay in Praxus.  If so, Jazz wondered if he would be spending more time staring at the mech's aft, chestplates, or crotch than actually doing anything he was in Praxus for.

             Prowl walked into his chief’s office, his new charge sitting in the guest’s seat. He gazed up briefly to take in his charge’s appearance. The enforcer didn't keep up much with current music and upcoming singers and had come to find that most of them were stuck up snobs. He glanced over the slight frame, noting the smile the other was giving him, not really sure what it meant.

             "Prowl, this is Jazz, a Polyhexian singer," introduced the chief, "Jazz, this is Prowl, upcoming enforcer chief I hope."

             Jazz stood from the chair, holding out his servo in greeting, "It's good to meet you Prowl; I hope we can become friends."

             Prowl extended his servo in return, shaking the Polyhexian's firmly with a nod to the other’s words. It was rare he and his charges ever became friends with their overbearing personalities. His face remained stoic as he turned to his chief, "Is there anything more I need to be briefed on?" 

            "No," waved off the chief, "just keep Jazz safe and guide him where he needs to go."

            Jazz's spark had fluttered at the strong grip on his servo, causing him to pull back somewhat early.  He already liked the mech's voice; it was his nature as a singer and songwriter to delve into tones of voices.  He looked between the two other mechs before asking with a tilted helm, "I have some time before I have to do anything much; think you could show me to the Helix Gardens, Prowl, if the press doesn't crowd us too much?"

             Jazz flashed another smile at Prowl.

             Prowl contemplated the other's words before nodding and turning to walk the way he'd just come from, "Follow me." The pull back from the handshake was curious but not enough for him to guess the other had some ulterior motive.

             He peered back briefly to make sure the other was following before slowing to let Jazz catch up to his side when they reached the back door. The chances the press would be back there was minimal, though he mused it would be easier if the singer had some other paint job as to not stand out as himself. 

            Opening the door, Prowl peered out to see if the coast was clear, then turned back to Jazz, "Stay close." He himself had a great disdain for the press as they had a tendency to weave stories that best fit their wants and that would get the best reaction out of bots.

             “Ah, wait,” protested Jazz, “hold on.”  Frowning and helm lowering, a look of concentration came over his faceplates, and his plating shimmered slightly before taking on black and white color scheme as a blue visor popped down over his optics.  Some plates shifting slightly around, he gave a grin, looking back up at Prowl, “How do I look, different enough?”  Even his voice sounded different.

             Prowl's optics brightened for a split second, barely noticeable as he nodded in approval before turning back to the open door. Bio-camo covered his emblazoned sensory panels, replacing the Enforcer code with one red and black stripe on each panel.

             He led the singer out and away from the station where the press could be heard getting rowdy in the front. He internally smirked to himself at the thought of dropping Ironhide on their helms; that was sure to calm them down if not send a few to medical.

             Reaching the street he transformed, waiting for the other to follow suit before taking off towards the gardens.

             Smiling at Prowl's nod of approval, Jazz eagerly followed the Praxian to the gardens.  Once standing before the entrance, Jazz said quietly to Prowl, "This is what I was supposed to look and sound like as an adult, if I had not found out I'm a shifter.  Be honest, do I look alright?"  Jazz was particularly insecure about his "original" form, but he liked it best.

            And no, he really didn't care if this mech knew he was a shifter; something in him told him not to worry if Prowl knew.

             "It's fine," slowly the Praxian walked around, letting the other take the lead if he so wished, "Is there a reason you don't perform with your original form?" He was honestly more surprised that Jazz recalled what his original form was; as most stories related to shifters, the shifter tended to go crazy from not being able to remember their true forms.

             The enforcer grazed a servo over one of the crystal structures they passed, remaining silent waiting to see if the other would answer. Just looking at the singer though, Prowl could tell the other liked to talk and had a feeling he wouldn't have to wait long.

            Compared to Prowl, Jazz was constantly touching the structures around them, one servo on something at all times.  He hummed in thought for a moment before answering, “It’s a bit personal, but I’m very insecure in this form though I do like it the best.  Do you suppose that’s why I’m shy about it?  By the way, feel free to ask anything about shifters you might want confirmed or just known in general.”  Glancing at Prowl, he visibly restrained from talking more at the mech in favor of letting the enforcer answer.

             Prowl nodded in turn, "You're no longer familiar with your original form possibly." He didn't make it a habit of talking much with his charges, as it became harder to concentrate on his surroundings.

             "You wished to see the Helix Gardens...so here they are," his voice was devoid of any emotion as he fell back to walk behind Jazz instead.

             “They’re beautiful,” murmured Jazz as he traversed the gardens.  He wondered if Prowl didn’t like him; was the mech so seeming emotionless with his coworkers? Pity, he had such a lovely voice, too.  “Maybe… And I know what I looked like as a sparkling; I saved pictures before having to move out of my creators’ house, and I’m glad I did.  Logic follows that I’d look similar as an adult as I did as a sparkling.  Design the sparkling design up a bit more, and I’ll look close enough to what my form would be as an adult.  Though I think I just said that twice; didn’t I?”

             Jazz came to a halt in front of a massive black and white crystal, staring up at its beauty.  Reaching out, he settled a servo over it carefully, digits stroking over its surface.

            "How were the gardens formed?" he asked quietly, still staring up at the great crystal.

             "Delicately," he spoke, voice calm as he reached forward to touch the giant crystal. The enforcer smiled softly to the thrumming vibrations reverberating throughout the crystal and to the others surrounding them. "To most outsiders it can be seen as..." Prowl paused in his wording, trying to find the right glyph to explain it before just settling on one, "inappropriate."

             The Praxian went silent after that, optics dimming slightly before refocusing on the singer, "Is there anything else?"

             “Inappropriate?  What… what do you mean?” asked the singer hesitantly with a tilted helm.

             Prowl sighed at the other's reaction, though that was the same reaction he suspected if he were to tell him how, "I'd rather not traumatize you before your big show." Prowl turned to walk around behind the singer, watching their surroundings just in case of any surprises, "...maybe some time." 

            Jazz vented a sigh but acquiesced, “Alright, but if you don’t tell me after the show, I’ll pester you until I find out.”  Lifting a servo, he massaged his helm with a faint groan, “Okay, it’s time to go to my suite.”  He drew a bottle out of his subspace and quickly swallowed a pill from out of it.  The Polyhexian turned to Prowl, “Guide me to the White Crystal Hotel?  I don’t know the route from here.”

             Prowl watched from the corner of his optic before nodding and moving to lead the way. The enforcer made sure the other did not linger too far behind as it would be bad if something happened to his charge from being careless.

             Hiking his sensory panels up as he fell back to let Jazz walk beside him, he lowered them so that they were now at the other's back, keeping the singer close.

             The hotel wasn't far, as its namesake was after the large white crystal within the Helix Gardens. They walked as Prowl was unsure of what the other had just taken in the gardens and did not trust the other to drive.

             Prowl walked into the hotel, Jazz still at his shoulder as he lead the other to the elevator, easily bypassing the press that were more than likely waiting for the singer to show up. He was given Jazz's hotel information as well as the other's entire schedule until he was done in the city.

             He typed in the code for the other's room, walking into to make sure no one was hiding inside or any other surprises were left for him. After clearing the room he let the other enter before moving to lean himself next to the door, waiting for any other instruction until the next scheduled time came up.

             “I’m not sure what to think of you, ya know,” said Jazz as his optics brightened while he puttered around his apartment.  Thoughtfully, he hummed, trotting to Prowl and getting into the mech’s personal space, staring at the amber optics close to his visor.  “Ah!” Jazz exclaimed in realization before his appearance shifted back to the singer that was known and recognized.  He backed up, tilting his helm before turning to fiddle with the décor in the room. His behavior seemed exceptionally better, or happier, now that they were in his soundproof rooms at the hotel.

             Prowl stared back into Jazz's visor as the other entered his personal space so suddenly. Sensory panels shifted to be more comfortable as he leant back, arms crossed an unamused expression on his face.

             “I mean, seriously,” Jazz waved a servo in the air as he giggled, “You’re kinda like a brick wall, completely unreadable.  Well, near-completely.  A really cute brick wall with a good, hot, abso-fragging-lutely to-die-for sexy voice,” he gave a little dreamy sigh before continuing, “No wait, on second thought, you’re nothing like a brick wall; please excuse what I said if it wasn’t too hurtful.”  He gave another giggle.

             A sensory panel twitched in slight confusion, what was going on? Uncrossing his arms, Prowl took a step forward to grab a hold of Jazz's shoulders, "What is wrong with you?" He questioned, optics narrowed. The other hadn't drunken anything since they'd been in the room, and that's when he remembered the gardens. Urgently he squeezed Jazz's arms, not enough to leave a mark but enough to get the other's attention, "The pill? What was it?"

             “It’s a painkiller,” grinned the singer, “a very, very strong painkiller.  Oh, here, let me get the bottle for you.” He dug it out of his subspace before handing it to the Praxian enforcer.  “You might wanna let me sit or lay down soon, by the way.” Suddenly, he groaned under his breath, "Stupid spark."

             Prowl eased his hold before lifting the other into his arms to bring to the berthroom. Setting the Polyhexian down carefully, Prowl moved to sit next to the other as he read the information on the bottle Jazz had handed him. Having a painkiller for spark pain didn't sound like the best of things, and he hadn't the slightest idea what doctor would prescribe such. Spark pains could be life threatening and it was better for the other to feel it if something was seriously wrong.

             Prowl rested his servo over the other's chest armor, feeling the weaker than normal spark and frowned slightly before pulling out a medium sized crystal. He'd been working on it since it was a tiny shard and had yet to really work with it, but it would be better than nothing.

             Carefully he placed it over the singer's chest seam, as Praxians could heal and fix crystals with their own sparks the same went in reverse, though it wasn't practiced often and rarely anyone knew of the crystals’ healing effects.

             Jazz gave a little grunt, optics closing as he weakly shook his helm and pushed against Prowl’s servo.  Turning his helm away from Prowl, the singer’s servos dropped away from his chest as his body relaxed. Tiny sounds, mostly of pain, escaped him as he lay on the berth.  Black servos clenched on the berth sheets as he tensed again, expression clouding.  Groaning, his spark twisted in its chamber as if trying to reach out to the crystal so close to it.

            Prowl shook his helm at the other's weak attempts to push him away, "Calm." Again he brought the crystal to Jazz's chest when the singer’s chest parted to show his damaged spark. Prowl could see a dark shade where light should be streaming, as though there were a hole in the other's spark.

             Carefully he moved the crystal lower into the other's chest till it made contact with the damaged portion. His own spark pulsed to the rhythm the crystal hummed against Jazz's spark as the crystal seemed to light up in reaction to the singer’s spark.

             Straightening, Jazz’s body relaxed, his venting coming deep and consistent as tendrils extended from the damaged portion of his spark.  Though they were weak, they clung to the crystal, seeping into it and drawing strength from it, lightening very gradually.  Slowly, a soft humming grew in the room, emanating from Jazz as he hummed to the tone of the crystal, and in turn, both of their sparks.

             The enforcer lifted the crystal back up as the tendrils from Jazz's spark eased up, placing the crystal to his own parting chest plates. Tendrils from his own spark reached out to the crystal, helping it grow and expand just a small amount more before returning it to his subspace. Turning more in his seated position, he looked over the singer's recovering frame and spark before coaxing the chest plates to re-close.

             “So that’s how they were made,” murmured a soft voice.  Drained optics stared at Prowl with something akin to wonder in them.  A gentle servo pressed against the nearest part of the Praxian.  “Thank you,” the smaller didn’t appear to have the energy to elaborate on that statement, but he did manage to drag a little bit of the covers onto him while he vented deeply in recharge a few moments later.

             Prowl jerked slightly at the touch before relaxing again, watching the other rest his tired frame. He was going to need it after the repairs to his spark, the pain should be at the bare minimum if there was any at all now.

             Any information on the singer's health had not been appropriately filed; he was going to have to speak to his chief about it later. One of the singer’s own may have it out for him, and Prowl now knew he was going to have to be more aware around Jazz's own people and not just the press and fans.

            Prowl looked down at where the other had grabbed his servo, and fiddled with it slightly before using his free one to pull the blankets more over the recharging singer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl confronts Jazz's manager about the lack of info on Jazz's spark condition; Jazz begins his concert and greets Praxus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are still loved~! Also, there's no actual action until the last chapter.

            “Part 2”

             Squirming slightly, Jazz rolled onto his side and groaned, not wanting to wake up.  Yawning as he rolled back over to his back, he stretched his legs and arms, letting his arms relax over his helm as he crossed his legs down from stretching them up into the air.

             His optics slowly cycled open, something troubling him.  Something important niggled at the back of his processor, but his tired mind couldn't figure it out.  Wait, his spark!  It didn't hurt!  That must have meant... "It actually happened; it healed me," the singer murmured, a soft chuckle escaping him.  The pain in his spark was bearable now, if not completely gone. He would have to thank Prowl, maybe take the mech out sometime?  His processor buzzed with possibilities; he would have to learn what the mech liked.

             At that thought and still remaining in the same position, he looked around, wondering where the enforcer was.

             Prowl had just gotten off his comm. with his chief informing him on his charge’s health problems that had been kept from them when his sensory panel gave a flick at the air change. Standing from where he found himself sitting while the other slept, he casually walked to the other's room door. Assessing that the other was now awake, Prowl moved further into the room, sitting on the berth to be at closer optic level, "Are you alright?" 

            Smiling, Jazz nodded, "All thanks to you.  I guess you didn't know about my condition?  Only hurts a tiny bit now."  His servos lowered to rest across his covered stomach, he observed the other, watching the mech's doorwings in particular. 

            Prowl remained silent, observing the other's actions, "It seems your manager is remiss in his duties." 

            “I’ll have a chat with her later,” muttered the singer, uncovering himself as he sat up.  Looking at Prowl, he asked, “How can I repay you?”  He wanted to repay Prowl for his help, wanted to let the mech know that what he did was appreciated with the highest gratitude in Jazz’s spark. 

            Prowl shook his helm in the negative, sensory panels swaying slightly with the motion, "No payment, it is my job to protect you." Standing to move back into the other room Prowl glanced back briefly, "We need to leave soon so you can get ready for your show." 

            Jazz followed the other, "I should still at least thank you for saving my life."  He wandered into the small kitchen, gathering two energon cubes and some goodies for them.  He brought the food into the other room, handing Prowl his share before sitting beside him, though not invading the mech's private space, and munching down on his share.  "Hope you like sweet stuff.  I'm not big on acid-flavored goodies." 

            "As I said before, it is my job to protect you, if that entails saving your life then so be it," The enforcer accepted the energon but stared down at the sweet goodies. He popped one into his mouth experimentally before wincing at the sweet taste before handing the rest back to Jazz. He drank the energon in silence, contemplating how much more complicated this job had just become. 

            Snickering, Jazz eagerly snatched the goodies from Prowl, sinking into the couch with pleasure.  After finishing his energon, he stood up, stretching slightly and turning to the enforcer.  After the mech had finished, Jazz walked to the door, exiting it and making sure Prowl was following.  Once at the exit of the building, the singer sighed at throngs of people there.  “The Geode Stadium, if you please,” he murmured to Prowl, letting the other take the lead in guiding him there.  He stayed rather close to Prowl on the journey, not wanting to get separated from the other.

             Prowl took ahold of the singer’s servo, dragging him to an out of the way route yet less crowded one. There he transformed on the street and merged in when Jazz was ready. The trip wasn't too long, longer than the normal router but more than likely faster with less traffic.

             Once reaching the stadium, the Praxian brought Jazz to a side entrance, strategically dodging any press that was already inside as he lead Jazz to his room to get ready. Again, the enforcer checked out the room before letting the singer in, leaning against one of the walls while Jazz got ready.

             Smiling at the other’s actions, Jazz stepped into the room after being allowed to.  Soft yellow crystals providing light for him, he sat at the vanity set at the wall.  He put his shifter abilities to use as he manipulated his frame slowly, brightening his armor and adding neon blue highlights to himself.  His mouth opening, four of his denta extended slightly into points, not enough to be threatening but enough to be cute.  “Ready!” he chirped, standing and giving a twirl, “Now how do I look?  After this, I practice for a bit."

             Looking up, the enforcer stared for a moment before nodding and pushing off from the wall, leading the singer out to a more spacious room. The room was like a smaller version of the main hall where Jazz would be performing live. It was large and echoed sound the same way the larger would, making it an ideal practice room. Again Prowl moved to lean against a wall near the door while he watched Jazz go through his exercises to warm up his voice and frame. 

            Jazz paused in his rehearsing as he spotted a femme waving at him.  “Flashfire, hey!  How’ve you been doing?  You didn’t leave a message this morning!” greeted the singer as he sauntered over to his manager. 

            “I’m good, Jazz,” she smirked, “Don’t worry about me, I was busy, had some company over.  Anyway, I see your guard is watching you.  Having fun watching after this cute little mech's aft?” Flashfire directed the embarrassing question to the enforcer standing a little way off.

             Prowl moved away from the wall to walk over to the manager, sensory panels hiked high, "You're his manager?" was the blunt question directed at the femme, his expression anything but happy. "You missed a few things in your report on your mech here," he spoke calmly, holding up the pill bottle he'd been handed earlier.

             In amusement, Jazz stepped back to watch the byplay of his manager and the enforcer.

             “Jazz is not due to run out of his prescription until after his visit to Praxus, thus I didn’t think it necessary to mention it,” she glared subtly at the meddling mech before turning to Jazz with a sharp gaze, “And you, what is that Praxian doing with your pills?”

             The singer wilted under her gaze, not getting to answer before Prowl spoke.

             "It is not a matter that he's run out but more along the lines that you made no mention of his health being anything but superb as well as no mention of prescription pills," Prowl was furious, was this femme just stupid or did she really think that it was no big deal?

             Her singer had a serious spark problem, and performing in front of so many could very easily end horribly for Jazz and be the end of his manager’s career, though Prowl honestly didn't care as she was already negligent in her duties.

             "On top of that, no real doctor would prescribe a painkiller medication to a patient with such a serious health issue, let alone let them out and over exert themselves, " Prowl was on a tirade, ready to crush this femme with everything he had. His anger spiked as she turned her anger to Jazz, who had done nothing but reveal to Prowl his illness.

             “Well, guess what, he’s been dealing with this ever since he was a sparkling!” hissed the femme, “The pills were a last resort while doctors around Cybertron go over his test results.  He’s also performed in front of crowds in the past and has been perfectly fine.”  Of course, she was overlooking the fact that Jazz had been weak after the shows.  “And Jazz agreed every time after being informed of any new anomalies in his conditions.”  Though, the singer had agreed after being pressured into it.

             Jazz edged behind Prowl, watching his manager with anxiety spreading through his field free for Prowl to feel.  He’d never seen this part of his manager.  She’d always been nice and kind to him, if a bit pushy.

             "Painkillers are not prescribed because if something serious were to happen the patient wouldn't feel it, putting their life in danger. That is all you are doing here," Prowl took a step forward, wings moving to cover Jazz at his back. "I know how you managers work; you don't care as long as you're getting your cut.  If your singer doesn't sing then you're out of business," another step was taken as his optics brightened significantly at the brash words of the femme before him.

             Since he had fixed a good bit of the anomaly in Jazz's spark, he was okay for the time being, but the likely chance of the damage to return was high. In all honestly it was better for the singer to stay in Praxus, just to be near the crystals. Without direct contact they would be able to very slowly heal his spark; the damage would always return in the end, but as long as he was near the crystals he had more of a chance at not living in pain. 

            Flashfire backed away, glaring at the enforcer.  “I would never do that to Jazz!  I’ve spent a lot of money on his treatments, helping doctors to discover what’s wrong with him; why would I do anything to harm him?”

             “P-Prowl,” pleaded Jazz, pushing his helm into the other’s neck, “I’ve got to get to the show; please, can we continue this later?”  He had no idea the extent of his damage, but he really did want to finish the tour.  This event with his manager made him glad that he only had one stop after Praxus: Iacon.  Maybe Prowl could get some time off and accompany him on his next stop?

             "Have you even spoken to more than one doctor?!" There were plenty of doctors in Praxus who could have administered better treatment. Praxus was the best city for treatment on spark conditions.

             Sensory panels lowered a fractionally at Jazz's words as he glanced back at the singer's desperate expression. Prowl nodded as he turned to move Jazz out of the room, his servo resting on the other's lower back as they left the manager behind.

             “Of course we have,” growled the femme behind their backs, knowing her plan was foiled.

             As he was guided, Jazz stepped closer to Prowl with a lowered helm.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.  Do you really think she doesn’t care about me, only her money?”  He was absolutely crushed, almost shaking in his armor.

            "She cares about her reputation, she won't say anything out loud that might incriminate her," he said calmly; he didn't want to ruin it for the singer, but at the rate his spark was deteriorating, he would have been dead by the next show.

             He led Jazz to backstage, watching the sound crew attach the mikes to the singer, "We’ll talk after the show."

            “Okay,” he murmured, staring at Prowl as another crew gave him a brief polishing, making him squirm at the ticklish feeling.  At the curtain, Jazz took a deep breath, settling his customary smile on his face before pushing open the curtain and stepping into the spotlight.

            The crowd roared at seeing him, louder when he greeted with a “Hello, Praxus!  You ready?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl helps heal Jazz's spark; Jazz and Prowl make goodies; Jazz admits something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment? I love hearing my readers' opinions. ^_^

            “Part 3” 

            The show went off without a hitch, though Jazz had something of a headache afterward, but by the time he left the stage, his spark was aching badly, if manageably.  Adrenaline thrummed through his systems as he chatted animatedly with one of the cleanup crew.  "I love performing in Praxus!" he decided, giving a twirl.  He landed on the floor as he stumbled, giggling. 

            Prowl moved from his leaning back position against the wall to pick his charge up off the floor, "Come, you need rest." He spoke loud enough for those around to understand that Jazz was leaving as he lead the singer out of the stadium back to the hotel he was staying in.

             By the time they reached Jazz's room, Prowl was all but holding him up as he directed him to his berth. Once the enforcer had Jazz laid on the berth he pulled the crystal from his subspace, again placing it over the singer’s chest.

             Jazz smiled, leaning against Prowl as they travelled through Praxus.  Reclining on his berth, he looked down at his chest, quirking an optic ridge.  “Am I supposed to just let my sparkplates open naturally, or open them myself?” he asked, feeling a contentment come over him at the touch to the crystal.

             Prowl looked up from his position looking at the floor, "...Whichever you feel comfortable with. You don't need to open them if that is what you wish." Prowl stood to walk around, giving Jazz privacy if the other wanted it, "I know it is seen as indecent to most Cybertronians to reveal sparks to others not one’s lover or bonded." Sensory panels flickered as he slowly paced around the room, "To Praxians, it's not seen as such."

             “Would you show me yours, then, sometime?” quietly asked Jazz, watching Prowl even as the locks on his chestplating disengaged again, the singer’s spark plating cracking open.

             The enforcer stopped, hesitating before turning back to look at the other. Prowl moved closer to sit on the side of the berth, watching the crystal’s progress as it dimmed from the injured spark leaching life from it. Chestplates parted, leaking light over the singer’s frame as tendrils from his spark reached out to the crystal resting against the other's spark. Carefully he groomed the fading crystal back to life, helping it grow and brightening its life-force.

             Jazz’s optics widened in awe, sensing the crystal get stronger against him.  Leaders from his spark, sensing the other life-force so close to him, reached out to twine with Prowl’s own leaders.  The singer tried furiously to reign in his spark, try to prevent it from touching Prowl’s, but couldn’t.  Fortunately, his spark seemed content to leach minute amounts of energy from the other, and didn’t try to go further.

            Audials flattening against his helm, he stared up at Prowl and hoped the other wouldn't be upset at his spark's actions even as his spark sent a fragile leader of its own up toward Prowl's life-force.

             Prowl relaxed his pose more as the other's spark reached out delicately for his own, "Relax, you'll stress yourself more if you fight it."

             He understood that this could look bad to an outsider, but in Praxus it was fairly common and used for healing. Complete spark to spark contact was another thing entirely though, even if most cities wouldn't see it as any different from just letting their essences mix in the way Jazz's was with his own.

             The crystal grew, elegant spirals and spires forming from it as it seemed to attach itself to Jazz's spark.

             Jazz gave a little moan, relaxing into the berth as his optics closed.  His vents hitched as, unseen by him, a tiny sliver of his spark grew extra bright, forming a very solid shape as it drifted to the corona of his spark and drifted up a new leader to attach to Prowl’s spark.  Another tendril of his spark wrapped around the crystal, seeping into it, causing the crystal’s color to change minutely.

             He didn’t realize as little pieces of the crystal broke off and started floating around his spark, bright little centers of light in him.  His optics opened slightly, and he took in the sight of his and Prowl’s leaders twining together.  Happiness bloomed in him at knowing this would somewhat heal his spark.

             Prowl let out a vent of air as he watched the crystal repair Jazz's damaged spark. He was slightly disappointed in that he didn't get to grow and shape the crystal more beforehand, but he was glad to know that it would be put to good use either way.

             He watched as the crystal melded into and wrapped around Jazz's spark not unlike a parasite, but would be doing the opposite and heal its host instead of weaken.

             It was enough to get the singer through his next show, but by the end it would be little more than a sliver still clinging on without a stronger spark to rejuvenate it.

             His spark pulsed as its tendrils twined with Jazz's; he was surprised this mech wasn't as snobbish as other mechs and femmes he was made to guard before. Though it probably had to do with the discovery of Jazz's spark condition that had him more concerned for the mech than was strictly professional and that he hadn't attempted to make him wait on him servo and pede.

             He was to guide the other around for the next few days before Jazz had to leave to Iacon for his next show. Prowl mused he would possibly need to bring a new crystal for the other if they ended up going out more if he read Jazz right. He felt fairly positive that the other was prone wearing himself out fast.

             Jazz hummed softly as his spark retreated from the other’s.  Contentment and happiness swelled in his spark as the crystal surrounded him, supporting the damaged section of his spark.  His optics cracked open as his spark pulled its leaders back into itself.  He stared at Prowl for a while before his optics locked onto a little crystal attached to Prowl’s sparkplating armor.  “You have an attachment,” he murmured, a servo reaching out to prevent the other’s armor from closing as he stared at the little green crystal.

             Prowl looked down to the tiny crystal huddled close to his spark. He relaxed his frame as Jazz got closer, remaining still as the other inspected the crystal.

             Jazz gently touched the crystal, noting, "It's the exact shade of my spark.  How do you think that is?"  Thoughts buzzed along his helm, mainly wondering how it could have gotten there when he knew it hadn't been there before he'd reached out to Prowl.

             Prowl reached in to remove the tiny crystal from his person, holding it a distance away from his spark as he slowly manipulated its growth. Well that partially saved him the trouble of getting more crystals for the other.

             There wasn't that much known about shifters so Prowl just brushed off the sudden appearance of the crystal as being related to one of the many mysteries of shifters.

             A grunt escaped Jazz as he watched with intrigue the Praxian’s actions.  His lips burned to ask questions about the other’s ability, but he settled for one completely off-topic, “Feel like going out and getting the stuff for making goodies in a little bit?”  His grin was shy as he awaited the other’s answer.

             He didn't particularly want to leave his suite, but he wanted goodies more than privacy; he'd deal with it.  “I’d usually stay inside as much as I can after a show, but I don’t feel like it this time.”

             Prowl observed the other's behaviors before responding, "If that's what you want, as I can't leave you alone." He stood, sensory panels shifting with him to keep his balance as he put the green crystal into his subspace to work on when they got back.

             The enforcer turned to the singer lying on the berth before offering a servo to the other, "Sooner we retrieve the ingredients the sooner you can rest."

             Jazz’s form shifted into the form he’d been in while in the gardens, visor flipping down over his optics even as he took Prowl’s servo.  “Thank you,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked to the hallway.  “Pretty sure I know where the closest store is, so you don’t have to guide me there.”  As it turned out, since he did know, they made their way there in record time.  It took a fair while longer to find the ingredients for the goodies, but after they did and made their way back out, eventually got back to the hotel with little fuss. 

             “Praise Primus there were no troubles,” commented Jazz, meaning “press and fans” by “troubles.”  He set the ingredients out on the kitchenette counter, beginning to measure them out and mix them together.  “These shouldn’t be quite as sweet as the ones this morning, so I hope you like them.”

             Prowl made a sound of acknowledgment and made himself comfortable in a seat near the counter Jazz was working on. Pulling the green crystal out of subspace he parted his own chestplates again, his life force helping weave the crystal into intricate shapes as it grew.

             The green faded to a blue on each spire, as the enforcer manipulated it into a curving shape to better fit around a spark. After the main foundation of the circle was created, he weaved new spires over to cover the center like a shield that would rest over the spark itself.

             After laying out the goodies for them to solidify, Jazz turned to see Prowl.  Immediately, something in him clenched at the sight of the other's bared spark.  His thighs clenched together as he watched the enforcer work, and he knew it was arousal coiling in his belly.  Admittedly, he was scared of the sensation, never having interfaced for fear the overload would somehow hurt his spark.  Even so, the singer was rather well-educated in the subject.

             He watched Prowl work for a few minutes, and then tremblingly turned to scrape the goodies off of the metal they'd been hardening on.

             Prowl was so into his work he'd almost forgotten that there was still someone else in the room. Glancing up to the singer, the enforcer noticed the slight tremble in the other's frame.

             Their trek out shouldn't have worn the other down so quickly with the crystal still attached to the other's spark. Resealing his chest plates and setting the crystal aside, Prowl stood to approach the shaking singer, placing a servo on the other's shoulder, "Do you need to lie down?"

             Somewhat startled, Jazz looked up at Prowl.   The sound of the other's deep voice increased his trembles.  Holding his servos behind his back, clutching them together to lessen the trembles, the singer shook his helm, "No, thank you, Prowl, but it's normal."  He picked up a goodie, offering it to the enforcer with an inquiring hum.

             Prowl took the goodie to be polite, still keeping an optic on the other as he walked back to the other connecting room. He sat back down, looking at the goodie before taking a bite. It wasn't as sweet as the last one but it was still sweeter than he would normally eat. He kept the fidgety performer in his sight in hopes to find what was wrong with the other as he knew the other's sudden actions were not normal.

             The singer gave a smile, still subtly trembling as he gathered the goodies and followed Prowl.  He nibbled on them, thighs clenching together when he glanced at the other’s chestplating.  A blush inflamed his face after a moment, and he glanced away again.  The heat creeping down his neck bothered him, causing him to munch on the goodies faster.  “So what kinds of activities do you enjoy?” he asked quietly, suddenly.

             And if he just wanted to hear the Praxian talk, well, the other would likely never find out.  Primus, he just hoped his cooling fans didn't click on.

             "You've already seen what I enjoy doing," Prowl spoke in a calm tone, noting the heat in the other's cheeks, "I don't take much time off, so I don't venture out much in search of new hobbies." The other's stress could be felt through Jazz's field as he continued to fidget, "...Are you sure you're alright?"

             And there his cooling fans went, thought Jazz.  "I don't really know how to explain without sounding expectant or anything," he mumbled, practically shrinking in his seat, "It's just-I'm... I kinda maybe sorta have a thing for voices and seeing your spark exposed, well, it just..."  Trailing off, he turned swiftly and yanked the nearby blanket over his body, pulling his knees up to his chest and covering his helm to avoid looking at the enforcer.

             He gave a pitiful little whine, "You can probably guess by now, right?"

             Prowl leant back in his seat, that's not quite what he expected to be the problem. The other was attractive enough, but he barely knew anything about him.

             He'd found that he and other enforcers had a hard time finding partners who could deal were their busy work schedules. Their solution around it was to just help each other out when one of them needed a quick release or just wanted someone around after a hard case.

             They never ventured further anymore in search of actual relationships, and Prowl would help Jazz but there was that chance that the singer would want more from him, not to mention he could possibly lose his job if Jazz's manager found out.

             Prowl was silent, not knowing how to respond to Jazz. His optics were dim as he tried to think of something to say.

             A few moments later a datapad slid out in Prowl’s direction from under the blanket.  Jazz uncovered himself and it was plain to see that he’d used his shifter abilities to make his face cherry red to represent his embarrassment because nobody’s face was that red naturally.  Standing, he walked into his room without a word but with a motion to the datapad, silently telling Prowl to read it.  The singer looked positively embarrassed and miserable as he plodded back to his room.

             _‘But that’s not really the problem I see,’_ it read, _‘I’ve never interfaced or ever done anything like that, and I don’t want to be made fun of by the person who’s my first, which, I guess, is why I want someone like you to take my seals.  You don’t seem like the type of person to make fun of someone for that… You obviously don’t have to.  I wouldn’t force you to take my seals or interface with me or whatever…  Though I suppose I’m just making things worse, huh?’_ Jazz’s nervousness was plain in his writing, seeing as his words were nicely scrunched up, though still readable if barely.

             Prowl frowned at the datapad, there would be no strings attached if he just wanted him to be his first. The enforcer saw no problems with this beside his job possibly being on the line.

             Standing, Prowl moved to stand in the doorway of Jazz's room, "If your manager finds out, I can lose my job." He spoke in a tone that he would accept the other's offer as long as the femme didn't find out his role.

             Shame burning in his optics, Jazz glanced at the Praxian, silent as he thought it over.  "I-No," he finally said, curling up more on his berth as he looked away from Prowl, "I can't, won't.  For, for the longest time, I'd wanted--hoped--that my first would be with someone I loved and could spend a good part of my life with.  I know that's not going to happen though.  They would just want to be with me for my fame.  I'm better off remaining alone with my seals.  And besides, nobody would want to be with a shifter."

             "Your shifter abilities do not create a deterrent to me, and if you truly so wished you could be yourself and never let the other party know about your ability," Prowl spoke calmly not wanting to scare the other or embarrass him anymore, "It is better to be with someone you actually love, but at the same time you want someone who will know how to take care of your first time," he didn't want to come off as forcing the other, but he wanted him to be aware that not all would be understanding.

             "If you ever wish, even once you leave Praxus, I can remove your seals, no strings attached."

             Dipping his helm in a nod, Jazz accepted the mech’s words.  “Thank you,” he stated, voice fragile, “It means a lot.  Now, could you leave me for the night?  I promise to call if I need anything.”  The attraction he felt to Prowl... he didn't know what drew him to the Enforcer, especially with the very short time they'd known each other.

             Prowl nodded and turned to leave the room and hotel completely. He patrolled around the singer’s hotel the rest of the night, keeping a look out for any suspicious mechs or femmes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz leaves Praxus; Prowl is playfully teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of short. Oh well.

            “Part 4”

             "So how'd your grand-sparkling like her present?" asked Jazz with a smirk.

             "Oh, she loved it; you have no idea how happy it made her," smiled the chief, glancing up to the door as they all waited for Jazz's manager.

             Jazz let out a chuckle, smile widening, "She have the latest DD yet?"

             The chief gave him something of a suspicious look, "The 'Crackling Crystals' album?  I'm sure you know it hasn't hit the shelf yet."

             With a flourish, the singer brought out a datadisk and handed it to the elder enforcer.  "Figured I might as well; it's signed and everything.  Recorded live at my show here in Praxus."

             The chief blinked in surprise as he took the datadisk.  "Thank you; she'll love it!"

             Chuckling, Jazz turned to Prowl.  "After today, you won't be bothered by me anymore.  Bet you're happy about that, huh?" he asked quietly, gaze locked with Prowl's.  He appreciated everything Prowl had done for him, he really did, but he generally felt as if the enforcer was doing nothing more than tolerating him at times and annoyed with him at others.

             Prowl was silent as he looked back at the door that Jazz's manager was to appear. Moving closer Prowl pulled out a box to hand to the singer, "It will be different without you around." He spoke casually, not revealing anything as he stepped back.

             Jazz took the box, knowing what was likely in it as he carefully set it in his subspace.  With a sensitive audial flicking in the direction of the door and not hearing his manager’s pedesteps, he stepped forward quickly and gave Prowl a hug.  “You’re a fun mech, Prowl; I’m glad I met you,” he whispered in the enforcer’s audio.

             Prowl arched an optic ridge, no one ever quite calling him fun before. He put a servo around Jazz's back in a return hug, before gently pushing the other away as his sensory panels picked up the approaching presence of Jazz's manager.

             At also sensing his manager, Jazz was reluctant to let go of Prowl, but did so anyway with a quick, teasing peck to the other’s cheek.  Stepping away a safe distance away from the enforcer, the singer watched his manager as she came in, practically sneering at Prowl.

             “Are you ready to go, Jazz?” she asked sharply, turning to her singer.

             “Yes, Flashfire,” said Jazz meekly as he followed the femme out.  He glanced back at Prowl somewhat longingly, and as a result almost ran into the door before he straightened himself out and continued following the femme.

             Prowl watched the two leave, heaving a sigh once they had exited the station. He glanced back to the chief to see him staring at him.

             The chief smirked. "You like Jazz," he stated.  He seemed to be resisting a grin, if he way his lips quirked and unquirked was any suggestion.

             Prowl narrowed his optics at his chief, armor fluffing at the words before resettling back down. Huffing, the enforcer turned to exit the office, avoiding the smirk the other so desperately wanted to give him.

             "You like that singer, Prowl, don't deny it!" hollered the chief after the younger enforcer.  Guffaws followed Prowl out of the chief's office.  Embarrassing Prowl made all the paperwork with Jazz's visit worth it.

             Prowl cringed at his chief’s words and the following jibes all in good humor from the other enforcers. Sensory panels fluttered and lowered as he ducked his helm in embarrassment only his fellow enforcers were privileged to see.

             "Our little Prowl has his first celeb crush~" crooned a femme as he passed her.  "How cute!"

            "Couldn't have been on a better celeb, too," jokingly remarked another.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time skip. Jazz, performing in Iacon in the Prime's Concert Hall, gets invited to speak with the Prime himself.

“Part 5”

             Jazz vented out a tiny sigh, going out what had happened since he'd left Pro- ah, Praxus.  He'd gotten swarmed by the press several times, nothing new there.  After arriving at the Iacon Enforcers’ HQ and getting introduced to his Iacon guard, Jazz had decided he did not like the mech.  He'd literally almost growled at the sight and just about fled.  Not elaborating on that.  The singer had gotten settled in his suite, which was just as comfortable as Praxus's suite, which he strangely liked better, perhaps because of the airier and less closed-in design.  He'd signed autographs and gotten through a couple days.  Also, he'd struggled through writing a new song and had just given up on what he was supposed to be writing and had written about his adventures in Praxus instead.

             Now he was at the Prime's Concert Hall and as jittery as a sparkling on ultra-sweet goodies.  The reason?  Rumor had it that the Prime himself would be at his concert.

             "Gah!" he exclaimed, throwing the polishing cloth away from him as he finally shifted his form.  Fortunately, his guard was outside the room and wasn't at risk of knowing he was a shifter.  Once finished, Jazz looked rather similar to his Praxus get-up, but cherry red and with "decorative" plates overlapping each other as they extended from his helm.  (And if the current red of his highlights reminded him of the color of Prowl's chevron, he wasn't going to admit it aloud, or even to himself, for that matter.)  Calming himself, he strode out of his changing room, motioning for his guard to follow him as he made his way to the backstage.

             After finished being waxed and polished, Jazz made his way onto the stage, receiving a loud roar from the crowd's excitement.  He started off by singing one of his first songs.  After the show, Jazz was grinning widely while chatting with his manager.  They both looked over as a messenger came to them and handed Jazz a letter.

             Jazz thanked the messenger and opened the letter.  Reading it, he gaped.

             "What is it?" Flashfire asked, curiously trying to see the letter.

             The singer squealed loudly (a painful experience for anyone hearing it) before answering, “It’s from the Prime; he wants to see me!”  He clutched the letter close to his chest as he resisted the urge to squeal again.

             Flashfire tried to keep the bite out of her tone as she folded her arms and leant back in her seat, "Well you'd better make sure you're presentable."

             “Absolutely!” grinned Jazz, ignoring his manager’s foul attitude as he quickly stood up, practically hopping in place, “I’ve gotta go; see you later Flashfire!”  He quickly ran off, though he tried not to go too fast.  After arriving without much incident at his suite, he cleaned himself off, and shifted into something more appropriate for meeting the Prime and Senate.  The next day, once finishing his little preparations and getting on the streets, he made his way (with his guard following, of course) to the Prime’s Citadel.  After a brief struggle with the guards at the gates, Jazz was allowed into the compound, guided to a sitting room, and told to wait. 

            Immediately, his gaze was caught on the crystal structure in the center of the room.  He approached it, humming his interest as he examined it.

            Sentinel made his way into the room the singer was waiting, "You like it?" He spoke up behind the smaller mech.

             A sudden shriek startled even the singer himself as he jumped forward, almost knocking the crystal over but flailing and catching it just in time.  With panting intakes and wide optics, he turned to look at the Prime.  Well, look up… and up and up.  The words slipped out of his mouth before he could help them, “Primus, I feel puny.”

             The Prime laughed in good humor before helping the singer resettle the crystal structure back to its proper position. "I am sorry to have startled you." The Prime moved to sit, offering for the other to sit near if he so wished, "You've become quite popular in a very short period of time." Sentinel smiled at the other before pulling out two cubes.

             “It’s okay,” chuckled Jazz as he sat daintily on one of the chairs, taking the offered energon and sipping at it, “I guess I was so focused on the crystal I didn’t hear your systems.  I’m really not that special,” denied the singer with a shy little smile, “I just try my best at what I do.”  He glanced at the crystal again, “Who made it, if I may ask?”

             "I don't know who specifically, but that it was made in Praxus," He gazed at the crystal sculpture with wonder, always amazed at the detail. "I've always been curious how they sculpt their crystals. It's amazing the detail they can get," the Prime looked back to the singer who in turn seemed to be gazing at it in longing, "You just had a show in Praxus, correct?"

             Optics soft, Jazz’s servo lifted to his chest, digits splaying carefully over his sparkplating as he nodded.  “Yes, I did,” he looked back at Sentinel, voice changing back to normal as he set his servo back on his lap, “Why do you ask?”

             "I found myself gazing at crystal sculptures more often after my first visit to the city," he spoke wistfully, "You almost seem homesick though." The Prime tilted his helm, watching for any reaction from the other, "You met someone there?"

             A shy duck of his helm was Jazz’s response.  It was almost frightening how easy it was to converse with the Prime.  A soft chuckle escaped the singer, “The enforcer that was guarding me.  I doubt he feels the same for me as I do him, but I would love to see him again.  He didn’t treat me like I was any different than anyone else; even helped me avoid the press when he could.”  Jazz was silent for a moment before speaking again, “I love the gardens there too; they made me feel so calm, helped my spark ache less.”  The last phrase was spoken offhandedly, as if he didn’t fully realize what he’d said.

             The Prime listened to the other and could see how much the smaller had cared for the guard. He guessed the enforcer must have been quite the mech to catch the singer’s interest, "Why do you think he does not feel the same?" The Prime had a small frown creep onto his face, though was thankfully hidden behind his faceguard as he processed the spark ache comment.

             “When I told him about my feelings; well, ‘no strings attached’ pretty much sums it up,” Jazz glanced at the Prime, “Mind you, he didn’t go about it in a rude or mean way—he was actually very nice about it—but I guess he just didn’t really seem to care much…”  No way was he going to tell Sentinel Prime that Prowl had offered to take his seals with no strings attached.  Jazz may have been somewhat old-fashioned, what with the “waiting for someone you love” deal, but that didn’t mean he was going to confess it to anyone else not already in the know.

             "Well in his field, strings attached could mean life or death sometimes," The Prime tried to assure that the other that there may have been a serious reason for the enforcer to say such, "But the fact that he was polite about it says something good about his character."

             The Prime leant over conspiratorially with a servo raised as if another mech were in the room, "Why not take some time off and visit just as a normal mech?" Sentinel's optics brightened as he watched the smaller for a reaction.

             Jazz giggled, smiling as he glanced at the Prime.  “I don’t think the press would let me do that,” he returned in a whisper, “They’re such sharkticons when it comes to their gossip.  Think there’s a way I can get around that?”  Of course, he wasn’t mentioning his ability as a shifter to anyone who didn’t need to know.

             "I may be persuaded," he spoke in a friendly tone, holding up a datadisk, "for my sparkmate’s sister." The Prime smiled as he handed over the datadisk, "I'm sure we can create some new gossip to keep them busy here while you take a break."

With a delighted laugh, Jazz took the datadisk from Sentinel and hugged the Prime, “Thank you so much!”

             The Prime was shocked, most mechs tried to avoid such contact with him as it was ‘disrespectful.’ He patted the other on the back in a return hug, "You are very welcome." Sentinel pulled the other back gently, "Just let me know when you'd like to leave, so I can get my own into place."

             Grinning and completely at ease in the Prime’s presence, the singer nodded in acknowledgement. “After I leave, would it be possible for us to meet again sometime?” he asked hopefully, knowing the Prime was very busy but wanting to get the chance to talk to the mech again.

             "I'm sure that can be arranged when the time comes," The Prime smiled while moving back to sip on his energon, completely at ease as they just sat there together.

             Jazz smiled, hope bubbling in his spark as he relaxed into the too-stuffed chair.  With a snicker he remembered about the datadisk.  He signed it with one of his shimmery markers, using a blue to match his picture on the cover.  Handing it back to the Prime, Jazz resumed drinking his energon.  He was content to remain there until he either got restless or the Prime had a different engagement to get to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz leaves Iacon, arrives at Praxus, goes to a store, and reports a robbery in progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, really short. I apparently am really good at summarizing events? I don't quite know; you tell me. Also, I will be updating the rest of this fic that InMoNichrome and I have written, as a bonus of the new year; so, this will be marked "complete" by tomorrow morning, hopefully.

            “Part 6”

             After having said goodbye to Sentinel Prime and exchanging contact information with him, Jazz had been guided to a private transport, assured that the Prime would handle his ‘disappearance’ appropriately and nobody would find out he’s gone (at least until he got to Praxus).  Currently, he was in that private transport and headed to Praxus.  Also, Jazz found much relief in being away from his nagging manager.  In a few hours, he’d be in Praxus and that much closer to seeing Prowl again.

             With a vague ache in his spark, the singer curled up on his seat, falling into recharge quickly afterward.  He was woken up by the attendant of the transport.

             “We’re at Praxus, sir.”

             Blinking open his optics, Jazz looked up and uncurled gracefully as he stood up.  “Thank you,” he said with a nod as he exited the transport.  He was lead to his suite, which wasn’t as high-class as last time, by the attendant, who then left after giving him a map of Praxus.  Jazz looked around, making sure he didn’t see any cameras before he shifted into his Iaconain form, a grey and purple femme who he called Amethyst.

             Checking his subspace for energon and goodies, he nodded in satisfaction at finding them.  After a bit longer, he made his way to the Helix Gardens, though having to pause and check his map a few times.

             He watched the crystals around him, sighing and relaxing at the subtle thrumming his audios picked up.  Eventually, he stood up and decided to wander around. 

             Later, he found himself in a little store, browsing through the knickknacks on the shelves.  Spotting a rather life-like plushy of a silver Polyhexian doe, he curiously picked it up, examining it in his servos.  He squeezed it a couple times, feeling its softness before nodding to himself and beginning to head to the register.  Pausing just behind a tall shelf, he watched with dismay as a tall mech approached the cashier and began threatening the person behind the counter.

             He brought up a servo to his audio, initiating an emergency comm. to the enforcers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl stops a robbery. Jazz still has a femme frame.

            “Part 7” 

            Prowl was on patrol when his comm. was pinged by the station that there was a robbery in progress in the shopping district. Changing his course, he made his way toward the district.

             Once he was in the heart of it he had to shift to bipedal form as the streets became packed with bots. His sensory panels were held high as he ran through the crowds to the coordinates pinged to him earlier, when he saw a bot quickly exiting his current destination, looking suspicious as they looked around.

            Popping his sirens on to see the reaction he'd received, he was quickly running to catch the bot who had snapped his helm around to see the enforcer before bolting the opposite direction. Thankfully, the crowds of bots opened up to create a path for him as he fired a stun shot at the perpetrator.

             Moving closer, Prowl read the mech his rights as he cuffed his servos behind his back, calling for a shuttle to pick up the offline mech.

             “What will happen to him?” asked a voice as a grey and purple femme, followed by a yellow Praxian, edged around the crowd to come closer to the scene.  The femme, clutching a plushie of a doe, and the yellow Praxian looked extremely nervous.

             Prowl turned to see the two questioning bots, "That all depends on him and if he has a record or not." He stared at the nervous Praxian, sensory panels rising in a question of why. "Whatever was taken shall be returned." 

            The Praxian’s own doorwings twitched in a mixture of don’t know/natural as he said, “Thank you; we’re going to be witnesses to the crime now, right?” He glanced to the femme beside him. 

            “I’m the one that called,” she tentatively said, hardly meeting Prowl’s optics.  The three watched as a shuttle picked up the robber and took the mech away.  "What do we do now?" she asked, looking at the enforcer somewhat expectantly.

             The enforcer turned to them fully once the bot was fully loaded into the shuttle, "I will need to take a statement from each of you." His sensory panels gave a minute twitch as he passed next to the Iaconian femme, his field registering the other as familiar but not being able to place it. He was sure he'd never met the femme before.

             The femme smiled when he glanced her way again, flicking her field against his, and something changed in her countenance.  As Prowl couldn’t place why she was familiar, he didn’t spare her too much attention other than directing her and the mech to the station.

             “So what are your names?  I’m Amethyst,” curiously asked the femme to both the mechs.

             “Topaz,” answered the yellow Praxian after a moment.

             The femme nodded, turning her attention to the enforcer, “And you, enforcer, what’s your name?” she smiled, almost as if she knew something Prowl didn’t.

             Prowl glanced to the side at the Iaconian femme, again sensory panels prickling at the field. He was slightly uncomfortable with the knowing look she gave him, but he inwardly shook it off as nothing, "Prowl."

             Once they'd gotten to the station it didn't take long for Prowl to gain both of their statements and let them on their way. He turned back to clock out before heading off to the Helix Gardens, where he normally went to think.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl arrives at the Crystal Gardens and speaks with Amethyst; Prowl and Jazz interact more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No interfacing yet, but it's coming. ^_^

            “Part 8”

            Jazz was absolutely ecstatic; he’d gotten to see Prowl again and observed the mech at work without him knowing he was actually Jazz!  He smiled, silently rejoicing in the thought as he distractedly petted the crystal beside him.  Of course he was still wearing his Amethyst get-up, but that didn’t matter since it gave him a form of peace that he wouldn’t get as Jazz.

            A few minutes later, he looked up as he heard the familiar pedesteps of Prowl getting closer.  His spark fluttered, and he immediately got a datapad out of his subspace to appear as if he was doing something for when Prowl caught sight of his femme form.  It was unexpected to see Prowl here, but he didn’t mind.

            With any luck, Prowl would say something to him instead of just turning around.

            Prowl noticed the femme from earlier within the gardens; he narrowed his optics, unsure if it was coincidence or if the femme was following him. He moved around a corner out of sight of the femme and turned, waiting to see if the other would attempt to keep him in sight.

            Jazz made a noise of protest in the back of his throat as he saw Prowl leave his peripheral vision.  The shifter looked up from his datapad, twitching in his urge to follow or call out to the mech.  Exchanging his datapad for the doe plushie he’d bought, he stood up, heading in the direction Prowl had left in.  He nearly jumped back as he saw Prowl watching, or maybe glaring, at him.

            Prowl tilted his helm at the femme, moving closer at the same time, "Why are you following me?" He circled the femme slowly, her field continuing to feel familiar but again he could not place it.

            Jazz struggled with what to say. “I didn’t mean to show up here when you did, honest,” she gave a weak smile at him, half-lying, “but you’re interesting; you didn’t make any perverse remarks when you were talking to me, like others have done.  You’re… different, and I’d like to talk, if you don’t mind?”  Okay, so Prowl would probably feel hurt at his deception, but Jazz would make it up to the mech somehow.

            He felt like the femme wasn't telling the whole truth, if the way her field shifted was anything to go by, "...There are many more interesting mechs out there that are not perverse." He did not feel like being led along and possibly into some trap. There were enough stories like that already and he didn't plan on being the latest.

            Prowl stopped circling to walk straight away from the femme, "If you'll excuse me." The fact was, his fellow enforcers were right, he was crushing on Jazz, but Prowl didn't really register it until Jazz was no longer around. The more he saw small bots from other cities, the more he thought of Jazz and the more he missed his presence, even if he would never admit it aloud.

            No!  Jazz felt determination well up in his lines; he would not let Prowl get away from him!  He paused at that thought, frowning slightly as he realized he was crushing on Prowl.  Oh, well, he thought as he stepped forward to grab the Praxian’s wrist, only just realizing that that probably wasn’t a good idea.

            Prowl turned, jerking his servo away, his sensory panels held high. "What?" he attempted to asked calmly but ended up coming out more as a demand. He froze, calmly venting to pull himself together, Prowl attempted to start again, "I'm sorry but I'm not interested."

            Jazz perked up. “Who are you interested in?” he asked curiously, feeling jealous even as he pulled his servo away from Prowl.

            Prowl tensed at the question, averting his optics away from the femme because he knew if he said who then he'd be laughed at. Plenty of mechs and femmes crushed on the Polyhexian singer for his attractive frame, appealing voice and fame. Prowl on the other servo felt his attraction was different though; yes the other was attractive and had a lovely voice but the other also didn't grouch about being in his company as most did. Jazz smiled at him, a real smile and not a fake one that was so commonly given out by others in Jazz's position; but his smile made him feel that his spark wasn't as cold as he'd heard bots say.

            He remained silent, not being able to voice his answer; his sensory panels drooped as a light, barely noticeable blush colored Prowl's faceplates.

            “Come on, I won’t tell anyone, I promise!” pleaded Jazz, grinning up at the enforcer.  It never occurred to the shifter that Prowl could be crushing on him.  “And I won’t laugh, either, if that’s what you’re worried about, ya cutie.  I’ve had some pretty silly or weird crushes myself,” and wasn’t that the truth.  He counted one from every citystate he’d been to so far, “If that still doesn’t get you, I’ll,” he hummed, thinking about what he could offer Prowl.  There wasn’t much, but… “I’ll get you a VIP backstage pass to the Polyhexian singer Jazz’s next show.  I did grow up with him.”  Jazz smirked; after all, his last sentence wasn’t exactly a lie.  Didn’t people grow up with themselves?  He also hoped Prowl would be tempted enough by the offer to accept it.

            A sensory panel flickered at the sound of Jazz's name, his face darkening just a bit more. Did this femme know? Or was it just that obvious? Jazz had just been in Praxus not long ago and this femme could have easily seen him guarding the small singer. He shook his helm, in refusal of her offer not wishing to be led on and he just couldn't bring himself to tell the femme about his crush.

            Jazz pouted before another idea formed in his processor.  Pausing, he tilted his helm, examining the enforcer carefully.  He made a sound of realization as he exclaimed, “Ah, I recognize you now!  You’re the enforcer who guarded him when he was here; the one he talks about almost constantly!”  Though heading into dangerous territory, the shifter glanced around to make sure that nobody else was near before stepping closer to Prowl.  Surely the mech would get suspicious sometime?  Scratch that, Prowl was probably already suspicious of his strange behavior, just not showing it.  No femme would act this weird naturally.  “Do you know about his spark?”

            Prowl startled, sensory panels shooting up into a tight V at the femme’s whispered words, "Yes..." He narrowed his optics, still uneasy of the femme, yet not being able to deny the familiar field and suddenly recognizing who he felt it from. His expression suddenly morphed into shock, how could he have not known? "You're...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence as his servo came up to stroke the side of the femme- no, mech's face.

            Giving a slight laugh, Jazz tilted his helm into the other’s touches, bringing up a servo to clasp Prowl’s in his. “Yes,” he murmured, gaze affectionate as he spoke in Jazz’s voice, “I am.  It took you that long to remember I’m a shifter and connect the dots?”

            Prowl's sensory panels fluttered in embarrassment, "I was not expecting you back so soon, especially when reports say you're still in Iacon." Looking around, Prowl grabbed Jazz's servo, pulling him deeper into the labyrinth of crystals where not many traversed at that time. The crystals gave off an ethereal glow where Prowl set them down on one of the intricately carved crystal benches. "...I missed you," he spoke softly, a barely noticeable smile on his face and sensory panels fluttering in concealed happiness.

            “I missed you too,” whispered the shifter as he lifted a servo to trace it over Prowl’s face.  He smirked softly, “So you’ve been reading the news about me, huh?  Didn’t think you would.”

            Prowl leaned into the touch, optics shuttering, "Everyone at the station made sure to keep me updated."

            Jazz let out a little laugh, delighted at fully realizing that Prowl had a crush on him.  He continued gently caressing the other’s face, examining the contours and memorizing them as best he could.  His spark was fully at ease, fluttering in its casing.  “Sentinel Prime gives good relationship advice,” he stated quietly, suddenly.

             Prowl had no words for that last comment so changed the subject, "How long are you staying?" He didn't want the other to go; knowing now that they shared mutual feelings would make parting that much harder. He knew Jazz couldn't stay that long, the other's manager would realize eventually that Jazz wasn't really in Iacon.

             Jazz tucked himself against Prowl, wanting to be cradled and held.  “I don’t know.  Until my manager tracks me down, I guess.” He nuzzled the other’s chest, wrapping his slender grey and purple arms around the other.  “Think we can go back to your place?” he shyly asked, not looking up at the other, “I’d like to shift into my Meister Polyhexian form without anyone seeing.”

             Prowl nodded, his servo resting over Jazz's dainty femme arm. He tilted his helm to kiss Jazz on the cheek softly, his face feeling warm as he rarely gave out signs of affection. The enforcer stood and turned to take the other’s servo in his, pulling his singer up with him.

             Blushing and smiling, Jazz leaned up to return Prowl's kiss, pecking the other on the cheek.  He tightened his grip around Prowl's servo, waiting to be guided to wherever his enforcer lived.

             Prowl had led him to a more enclosed sector that seemed to house a fair amount of enforcers. Prowl was thankful they didn't run into any of his coworkers as he knew word would spread about him bringing an Iaconian femme to his apartment.

             The apartment was average sized with simple furnishings. Various sizes and colors of crystals decorated multiple locations, each winding around in their own unique ways.

             The dining room table had been turned into a work station, some tools and small crystals laid around a descent sized one that looked to be a work-in-progress.  Overall the apartment was fairly neat with tools laid out in random locations, never far from another crystal.

             Prowl looked around briefly at the ordered mess that was his apartment, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his helm, "Sorry for the mess."

             As he transformed into his Meister persona, Jazz chuckled and looked around.  "If you think this is a mess, you should see my place back at Polyhex, or any place I live in long enough.  There is absolutely everything everywhere, and jewelry projects half-completed wherever there's a space for them."  He looked back at Prowl, reaching up to tweak the tip of the other's chevron, "And do you know how adorable you look when you're embarrassed?"  A giggle escaped him before he turned away to inspect the crystal projects.

             "So pretty," commented Jazz as he inspected a purple crystal, "You do such a good job on these.”

             Prowl flushed slightly at the praise and moved to clear off his couch so they could sit. He moved around quickly tidying up, trying to keep his servos busy.

             Crystals were moved to his kitchenette and carefully placed in containers filled with colored sands. Switching tasks, he moved to grab them both some energon before heading back to the sofa where Jazz was now seated.

             Prowl slowed his pace as he re-entered his living room when he noticed the other rubbing his chest over his spark.

             Sitting next to Jazz and setting their energon down, Prowl turned to face the pained singer, "Open up; let me see." He brushed a servo gently against the other's chest seam.

             Jazz’s chestplating parted immediately under Prowl’s touch to reveal a spark that had nearly half darker than the other part.  He let out a soft cry of pain as several shards fell away from his spark.  Looking at Prowl, he tried to relax against the back of the couch as Prowl inspected his spark.  “I think feeling the air makes it hurt worse,” he murmured.  It was like a thousand tiny needles suddenly poking at the front of his spark while it tried to shrink away.

             Jazz was silent for a moment more.  "I'm never going to have a normal life..." he muttered.

             Prowl moved closer to inspect the other's spark, delicately touching damaged parts to see if the added pressure would cause pain or not. The hiss the other let out answered Prowl's unasked question. He servo ran over the deteriorating crystal wrapped around the damaged spark, "Is this your last crystal shield?"

             He moved one servo up to stroke Jazz's cheek, "Many mechs and femmes live with the same spark condition every day." Moving closer, Prowl pressed his lips against Jazz's as his own chest plates parted. Leaders stretched from his spark to extend to the weak crystal shield, rebuilding it carefully, trying to avoid touching the other's spark with his own.

             Sighing, Jazz tilted his helm back, not able to rest it against anything because of the low back to the couch.  “So there’s other’s like me, with my condition?” he asked quietly, visor flashing off as Prowl repaired the shield.   He gave a small jolt when leaders from the damaged portion of his own spark extended to the life-giving tendrils of energy so close to it.  A noise of annoyance escaped him as he looked down with a pout.

             "Yes, and a majority either live in or move to Praxus; those that don't, tend to invest in large crystals from the Helix Gardens," Prowl spoke softly against the other's lips, pulling back to see the progress of the crystal shield. Looking back up he noticed the pout on the other's face; unsure of what it meant, Prowl moved his servodigits to brush over his singer's lips, "What's this for?"

 Jazz nibbled on Prowl’s digits briefly, licking up the length of one before he answered, “Why does my spark do that, attaching its leaders to yours?”  He brought up a servo to trace around Prowl’s waist in search of sensitive seams to tease.

             Prowl leant his helm against Jazz's as he looked down to where his singer's leaders reached out for his own, "Your spark is seeking a stronger, more stable one." He pressed a kiss to Jazz's cheek, "A merge would probably do you some good, but...only if you are comfortable with it." Servodigits moved down to stroke the outer lining of Jazz's spark chamber lovingly.

             Jazz vented softly, thinking about the other’s words.  Did he really want Prowl to see all the secrets he hid daily?  Rather, did he want Prowl to feel the self-destructive tendencies he possessed?  No, decided the singer, no he did not.  Not wanting to disturb Prowl’s helm where it leaned against his, he said, “I would rather we didn’t, at least not for now.”  Or maybe not ever, he thought as he moved a servo close to Prowl’s spark, stroking over the other’s chamber equally lovingly, adoration swelling up in him and strengthening him.

             Prowl stared into the other's visor, trying to pick up any clues to the other's inner thoughts. The singer's field was held in close for a split second where Prowl could not read it and it hurt that the other didn't trust him enough to tell him what was so upsetting, but at the same time he knew it would take more time before the other truly felt he could tell Prowl anything, "When you're ready."

             He looked down to see the crystal rebuilt into a thin sheet, and carefully he extracted his leaders from it and in turn his singer's.

             Grateful that the enforcer decided not to press the subject, Jazz let out a soft sigh as Prowl pulled away from him, and he gazed at Prowl’s spark in fascination of the open chamber before him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fun PJ stuff. This continues straight from the previous chapter, but this part includes interfacing (tactile, oral-on-spark, sticky).

            “Part 9”

            Jazz tentatively caressed over the other’s spark, curious to see the reaction he’d gain.  He glanced up, just waiting to be told to stop.

            Prowl's vents hitched at the touch to his spark, his frame relaxing back against the couch. Sensory panels flickered lazily as he let Jazz touch his spark. Touching sparks was a fairly common activity among Praxians as Crystal Weaving took a lot out of a mecha and nothing was better than a soothing touch from a friend or loved one. His frame purred in happiness as he gave Jazz free reign.

            Perking up, Jazz smoothed his servo over the other's spark, watching as tendrils slipped out and caressed his servodigits.  He giggled, curling his digits as he pressed them gently into the spark presented to him to readily.  "You are beautiful," he whispered reverently, shifting so he could graze his lips over the life force of the other.

            Prowl's optics snapped open at the warm lips against his spark. He let out a soft groan and fell sideways on the couch, pulling his singer over with him. The enforcer’s optics re-shuttered as his helm lolled to the side with a relaxed smile on his face. His own servos wandered over the other's frame, dipping into gaps and stroking wires leisurely.

            Letting out a soft moan, Jazz continued mouthing over the other's essence.  Feeling the tingle of energy against his lips--so alluring--the singer knew he wanted to overload the enforcer.  He'd read medical texts that said that a surge of energy passed through the spark when overloading, and Jazz was curious to see if that was true, if he could feel it against him if his lips were touching that essence.

            He put his curious servos to work by allowing them to explore the other's frame, all the while shivering in pleasure at Prowl's own ministrations to his body.

            Prowl's frame shivered at the added sensation as Jazz's servos roamed his frame and mouth never leaving his spark. He dug servodigits into the seams around Jazz's hips, rubbing at protoform hidden under his armor.

            The enforcer groaned as he felt his charge increasing and instead of fighting it he just let it happen. He hadn't expected Jazz to attempt working him up till overload, but at the same time it was quite welcome.

            He'd needed this release for some time now with all of the late patrols and his sudden increase of crystal weaving; he had needed a little stress reliever. After he'd learned of his crush on Jazz he'd thrown himself into creating crystal shields for the other's spark chamber for if the other ever contacted him again. He'd been hopeful but at the same time he knew there was a slim chance of the Polyhexian singer to contact a mere bodyguard from one of his many shows.

            With a moan Prowl found himself overloading, electricity arcing through his spark and frame into the smaller on top of him.

            Jazz pressed himself closer to Prowl with a whimper as he felt the other’s overload rush through him.  He licked gently at the other’s spark casing, nuzzling it before pulling back.  Smug, he smiled down at the content enforcer.  With a buzz going through his own lines, he commented, “You look good like that.  I take that it felt good?”

            Prowl remained sprawled over the couch, unable to feel his limbs after his overload. His helm lolled to the side with dim optics staring up at Jazz, only static coming from his vocalizer at the moment.

            Giggling, Jazz patted the side of Prowl’s face.  “Apparently,” he said to himself as he got onto his servos and knees.  Examining the enforcer’s features, the singer shifted a knee forward, only to flail as he rapidly slipped off the couch.  He yelped loudly, landing with a crash on the floor.  Dazed, he looked up at the ceiling (entirely unaware that he’d also planted a knee on Prowl’s crotch, though fortunately said knee hadn’t been there long).

            Prowl yelped, curling in on himself as he cringed and cursed from the pain in his codpiece. He sat there for a bit, waiting for the pain to stop so he could move to peer over the side of the couch.

            He still wore a partial pained expression by the time he peered over the couch side to look down at Jazz, "Are you okay?" He questioned, static lacing his voice from the pain.

            “Glad I don’t have sensory panels,” responded the blinking singer.  He looked at Prowl, “Question is—are you?  What happened?”  He rubbed his helm distractedly, not feeling like getting up quite yet. Prowl’s bare tile floor was actually very comfortable.  Besides, his back and neck hurt.

            Prowl winced, "In your endeavor to not fall... you just hit a part that doesn't take well to being hit."

            Moving to sit up properly, Prowl reached down to scoop up the fallen mech. He cradled him close, just resting his helm against his singer’s, content to just be close.

            Jazz's optics widened behind his visor as he realized what part of Prowl he'd crushed, and he was torn between laughter and apologizing.  He settled for apologizing, "Primus, Prowl, I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to crush your mechhood, honest!"  He buried his helm in Prowl's neck, not wanting his flaming faceplates to be seen.  Due to his embarrassment, he was halfway tempted to offer to touch Prowl's body again in return for the pain he'd accidentally caused.  Jazz snuggled closer to the other, servo slowly slipping down to feel of the enforcer's body to check for denting.

            "I'm fine. It just startled me," he assured, trying to cover the slight wince as Jazz's servo felt over his codpiece. "Just a little too much pressure in one place," he got out while shifting Jazz a bit before laying back, sensory panels fluttering and twitching.

            “Want me to kiss it better?” Jazz offered with a smirk, straddling his enforcer.  The smaller mech trailed his servos over Prowl’s shoulders and lightly caressed the other’s doorwings.

            Prowl shuttered one optic to stare at him with one. No one had treated him this way before; no one really took the time to flirt with him. Though he did find it interesting how the other could easily brush off his own embarrassment.

            Moving a servo up, he stroked the back of Jazz's helm and down to massage over the other’s back, which he was sure was in some pain from his fall.

            Jazz let out a purr, arching into Prowl's touch.  That felt nice, really good on his aching struts.  He settled down close to the other's pelvis, not quite bumping it with his own.  He leaned against Prowl, their chests grinding together lightly from Jazz pressing himself closer to the enforcer.  He ducked his helm against Prowl's throat, lightly nuzzling and licking the other as his servo's continued their petting of the pretty doorwings so close to them.

            Contently the singer shifted against Prowl.  Jazz hummed softly before singing quietly, a random soft song about adoration for another.

            Prowl sighed at Jazz's ministrations, kissing his singer’s helm as he sang to him. Sensory panels flickered at his touch, pressing more into the other’s servos.

            Once finishing his song, Jazz laughed softly at Prowl’s doorwings. “They have a mind of their own, don’t they?” he asked as he pressed back against the appendages.  He leaned forward, to the side of Prowl instead of over his shoulders, and licked a broad streak down the closer sensory panel.

            Prowl's frame gave a jerk at the lick up his sensory panel. He purred, deep vibrations going through his frame as he pulled the other down to lay with him. They laid face to face when Prowl moved his servo to return some of the attention by stroking a hip seam.

            Jazz let out a soft mewl at the touches to his body.  Relaxing on the couch, he closed his optics, twining his legs around Prowl’s as recharge tried to claim him.  The feeling of Prowl’s legs against him made his engine rev softly in arousal, an unfamiliar feeling in his belly as he curled against the other.

            Prowl slowed his touches as he felt the other’s frame heat up significantly. The enforcer shifted his leg to deliberately brush up against Jazz's panel, feeling the intense heat coming from that point. His servos moved with purpose over his singer's frame, seeking out the other's hotspots.

            Jazz let out a startled yet delighted moan.  His frame twitched under Prowl's talented ministrations and he squirmed, pushing into the touches willingly.  It felt good, and Prowl was giving this to him, and he yearned for more.

            "If I fall off this couch," he panted, "you will get the cold shoulder."  He finished his sentence with a groan as he brought up a servo to caress his audial fins, curious to touch himself in a way he'd never really considered.

            Prowl smiled, upping his ministrations over Jazz's frame. One servo snaked up to tweak a helm fin while he mouthed over the other one, "I won't let you fall." He ground his thigh up against his singer's panel in a steady rhythm.

            Jazz let out a soft cry, servos trembling as he clung to his enforcer.  His thighs clenched on Prowl’s as the other pleasured him.  His leg above Prowl’s slid to rest on the other’s hips, and immediately desiring more of the sweet, sweet pleasure, he pressed closer to the other.  It was better than he’d imagined, despite all the texts he’d read about it, though maybe his body was just sensitive due to not ever having such contact.

            "Do you want more?" Prowl whispered softly into his audial, purposefully moving a servo down to stroke Jazz's panel. Knowing that this would be the other's first time if he answered yes, he honestly felt guilty about what he'd said when the other had asked him to take his seals.

            “Only if you promise this won’t be the only time,” murmured Jazz in response, his visor flicking up as he quivered against the other. “And… not on the couch?” he shyly requested, frame shuddering at the touch to his pelvis.

            Prowl kissed the side of the smaller's helm before easing up on his movements. He shuffled the other in his grasp to better carry him, standing when he was sure he wouldn't drop his singer.

            Quickly and with as little jostling as possible Prowl carried the other into his berthroom, careful to avoid stepping on any crystals he may have had lying around.

            Prowl gently kissed him again, laying him out onto his berth before covering him with his own frame. Servos moved back over Jazz's frame as he lightly ground his own pelvis against the smaller's.

            Stomach quivering with excitement, Jazz held on to his enforcer.  He hardly glanced around the other’s berthroom before he was being kissed again, his servos twining around Prowl’s neck so he could hold onto him.  Soft sounds of pleasure escaped him as he clumsily ground back up into Prowl.  “Teach me,” he begged against the other’s lips.  Feeling his panels slide back, Jazz blushed, but an eagerness to learn, to be taught, gave him reason to spread his legs and better cradle the enforcer against him.

            Prowl kissed him sweetly at his innocent words. Slowly he worked himself down the smaller's frame, avoiding the exposed equipment for the moment. Servos wandered over the writhing form beneath him, dipping into sensitive seams and smoothing over armor plates. He moved the other's legs to drape over his own bent legs as he ground softly against Jazz’s exposed equipment.

            "This may feel weird," he spoke softly as he lowered himself back down Jazz's frame to lick at his dripping valve, savoring the drops from the other's virgin valve. His glossa delved into the clenching heat, the other's frame somewhat fighting against him at the unknown touch.

            Jazz quivered at the wiggling sensation of his legs being spread as Prowl licked him.  His helm fins perked up and lowered in his curiosity—how did he taste?  Was he bitter, sour, or sweet?  Did Prowl like it?

            He gave a whimper and uncoordinated jerk of his hips as Prowl’s glossa stroked a particularly sensitive node around the outer rim of his valve.  Nervousness coiled in his belly, his servos fisted in the berth sheets.  He moaned the other’s name, valve clenching tightly even around the glossa inside it.

            Prowl pulled his glossa back, stroking the other's quivering thighs in a soothing manner, "Try to relax." He kissed Jazz's valve softly before moving his servodigits to his entrance, prodding lightly before nudging inside. He wiggled his digit inside, making sure to rub with just the right amount of pressure on the valve walls when his digit bumped the singer's seal. Carefully he pulled out before re-entering with two digits, his thumb brushing over sensitive nodes around the rim.

            Jazz let out a mewl as he was stretched, the feeling unusual and uncomfortable, but he would relax for Prowl.  Though his body was shuddering and he was panting, he let himself sink into the berth, his optics closing as he got used to the intrusion inside him.  Was he supposed to get so charged up so fast?  Was it natural?  Maybe it was because he was inexperienced and didn’t possess any stamina for such activities?

            The Praxian scissored his digits within the other, opening him wide as he slipped in a third digit, "When you feel comfortable with this, tell me." Prowl stroked a seam in Jazz's hip with his free servo as he leant over to kiss Jazz's abdomen.

            Sweet sounds of pleasure mixed with pain escaped Jazz as he lay there.  It was a few minutes later that he shifted his hips, trying to vocalize that he felt ready, safe, relaxed, “O-Okay.”  He reached a servo to stroke over Prowl’s helm, tilting his own helm up so he could see Prowl’s touches upon his body.  “What’s next?” he asked quietly.

            With a few more strokes, Prowl pulled his digits from his singer's valve. Sitting up more, he moved his digits up to lick unconsciously as he gazed at the other's waiting heat. His panel snapped back to release his spike, snapping him out of his daze. He sat still, letting the other inspect as much as he could.

            Vents hitched at the sight of Prowl sucking off his fingers, coated with the singer’s lubricant. To gaze at the other’s spike, Jazz propped himself up on a trembling arm.  His optics widened as he looked at the swelled appendage (when he reminded himself he’d practically crushed it, he would have winced had he not been so fascinated).  He reached out his free servo, stroking over its sides and head as he inspected it.  Jazz flushed when he heard Prowl moan his name.

            Lying back, the singer invited Prowl to enter him with a smile and shyly panted words of encouragement, “Come on; take my seal.  I trust you.”

            Looking back down at the singer, Prowl panted as he gripped himself to position properly at the other's entrance. Optics darted up from his staring at where their equipment touched, "We'll go slowly." Armor fluffed at the warmth pressed against the head of his spike. He vented, cooling his frame before entering, slowing when he got a wince from the smaller. His movements halted when he came to the elastic seal within, "Ready?"

            “As ready as I’ll ever be,” murmured Jazz, in awe of feeling something so sensitive for another inside him.  With difficulty, he spread his legs just a bit more, watching Prowl with trust in his gaze.

            Nodding in confirmation, Prowl pulled back out almost completely before quickly thrusting back in and breaking through the other's seal, fully sheathing himself. He covered Jazz's frame with his own, holding him close as he let the other adjust.

            Jazz’s optics spiraled wide at the pain, and he grunted, clutching at Prowl.  He quivered at the new sensation, feeling stretched beyond what Prowl’s fingers could provide.  After a few moments had passed, he nodded against the other with a soft noise, “Go ahead.”

            Prowl kissed the side of Jazz's helm as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in. He moved his hips at a slow pace, not wanting to move too fast for the other's first time unless strictly asked. Vents blew cool air over the smaller as he moved, his servodigits rubbing down Jazz's back.

            Feeling his charge build slowly, Jazz made soft, incoherent noises of pleasure, the lingering pain getting buried under the gentle pleasure his enforcer was giving him.  Tilting his helm so he could kiss Prowl, he also wrapped his servos around Prowl, caressing the other’s sensory panels.

            Prowl kissed him back as he continued his movements. He shifted his hips slightly to brush against different nodes at a new angle.

            A whimper, soon swallowed by Prowl, escaped Jazz as he trembled under the enforcer’s ministrations.  His valve clenched around the length inside it, and he instinctually knew he wouldn’t last much longer.  “Please,” he begged breathlessly, “a little faster?”

            Obliging, Prowl picked up his pace, moving his servos to pin them to the side of his singer's helm as he made deep thrusts. He panted into Jazz's audial, his sensory panels twitchy in concentration, "So lovely like this."

            Jazz moaned at a particularly focused thrust into him, and he arched into the other, their chests scraping together delightfully.  The singer let out a sudden, short scream as he overloaded under the other, their fields twining and colliding as Jazz unconsciously reached out with his.

            Prowl groaned at the tight squeeze and the erratic field that Jazz pushed against him, finding his own overload as he moaned, releasing inside the other's heat. His servos clenched at Jazz's own as he hilted and froze in place.

            Quivering, Jazz lay limp on the berth, shaken from his overload.  He looked a lot like Prowl when Prowl had overloaded earlier.  He barely managed to murmur, “Oh, Lord Primus, wow.”

            Prowl looked down at Jazz's face, laughing softly at the other's reaction, "Yeah...it can be." Carefully he slid out of the other and moved over to lie on his side next to Jazz. He draped an arm over his singer's waist, pulling him close.

            A purr escaped the singer’s engine, and he would have snuggled closer to his enforcer had he not been worn out.  “And we still have my spike to go, but later,” he panted, his gaze on Prowl as his helm lolled to the side.  Somehow, he found the energy to roll onto his side and curl up into Prowl with a happy mewl.

            "Later, when we've both rested a bit," he pulled the other close, resting his helm against Jazz's. One servo stroked over the other's chest armor in case of any sudden pains from exerting himself.

            A little laugh escaped him before he closed his optics with a yawn.  He wrapped one arm over Prowl’s waist, yawning again as he fell into recharge, feeling protected against his enforcer.

            Prowl smiled softly, kissing the other's helm before cuddling the smaller closer to his chest.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few of Jazz's random musings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part, short, and written solely by me (Searece).

            “Part 10”

            Jazz grumbled to himself as he wandered around Prowl’s apartment.  Primus, but he was bored!  There was absolutely nothing to do!  Sure Prowl had games, but most of them were board games requiring two players, and since it was no fun to play a two-playered game by himself, Jazz had not deigned to play.  When he’d wandered around the enforcer’s apartment, he’d discovered a mini-library that had possibly once been a type of sitting room, or maybe a guest room, but he’d turned it into a library.

            Well, Prowl didn’t seem like the type of mech to have a guest room for no apparent reason, but then, what did Jazz know of Prowl?  The singer had only known the mech for a little over two weeks total, and had been his guard for a little less than two weeks. On the day they’d met again, roughly a month or so later, Jazz had been a femme witness to a robbery.  Prowl had taken a willing Jazz’s seals later that day, also.

            So really, what did the Polyhexian singer know of the Praxian enforcer?  Nearly nothing, for what it counted.  He knew Prowl was obsessed with his job (“You need to relax just a teensy more,” Jazz had muttered with a hidden roll of his optics), loved crystal weaving (he’d told Jazz that was what it was called that morning before he’d left for his obsessed-over job), enjoyed reading historical datapads in what spare time he had (“Well, take some time off, if you can!” Jazz had snickered at Prowl’s comment of not having much spare time), and that Prowl couldn’t cook anything other than basic energon for scrap metal (the mixture had exploded when Prowl tried to cook it after being shown how to by Jazz; the singer still couldn’t figure out how it had happened, but seeing Prowl coughing while trying to blow smoke away from his face and being covered in ash had been the highlight of Jazz’s day).

            So really, he just knew four things about the mech.  Here they are without the comments in the way: obsessed with job, loved crystal weaving, enjoyed reading historical datapads, and can’t cook worth… well, slag, because that was what Prowl’s attempt at making goodies had turned out to be, just about slag.  And furthermore, he wondered why he was so attached to the Praxian; oh, and since the mech was a fantastic ‘face, make that five things.

            A minute later, he scratched his helm, wondering where the term “slag” and its cursing qualities came from.  Jazz gave a weak chuckle; he really was bored, if he was wondering about the etymology of the word “slag.”  Wait, didn’t Prowl have a computer terminal in his room?  Jazz could just look it up on the datanet!

            He perked up, immediately heading into his enforcer’s room to turn on the computer.  Once on the datanet, he looked up his question.

            A few hours later, he would have been wondering how he’d gotten to researching Praxian slang if he hadn’t remembered what he’d clicked on to get where he was.  He gave a snort.  Some of them sounded so stupid!  And he’d never heard of most of the vulgar things.

            “Well, of course I haven’t heard of any of them, vulgar or not,” he finally muttered to himself, staring at the screen in fascination.  _‘After all, what use have I for Praxian slang?’_ he thought.


End file.
